The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1887-01-19


and he then sang hymn, while his wife
accompanied him on the organ.
"What is that?" he asked, when he had
finished. Both listened, and heard the
tramp in the kitchen singing verse OF the
same hymn.
He is queer fellow" said the wife.
ale refused my offer of bed over the
kitchen, and wants you to show him the
hav-mow. He said he had been sailor,
and couldn't sleep in bed. And to hear
him singing that hymn after you"
Mr.. Seymour started at her words, and
walked the floor. Then, remarking that he
would go and show him his bed in the
barn, he left the room. His wife was
weaiied with the household labors of the
long summer day, and retired to bed. Be
fore her husband returned she was sleeping
soundly.
There was no sleep for Wellington Sey-
mour on that long remembered night. The
face and the voice of the tramp etiectually
drove slumber from his pillow, wearied as
he was. When he showed him to his nest
in the barn he had asked his name, but the
man shook his head.
"Name!" he cried, "what should l want
of a name? Names are for people who can
honor them. l suppose l had one, once;
but | have pretty near forgotten 1t.
sitting room for an hour, trying TO compose
himself and to drive that face and that
voice from his mind. The effort was use
less, but il had so added To his exhaustion
that he hoped he might sleep, and so he
lay down on the lounge. In vain; he
could not sleep. The clock struck twelve.
and, after that, one; but Mr.. Seymour still
lay awake.
Exhausted in body and mind, he rose and
went out into the open air. There was
brilliant harvest moon in the heavens, and
he saw from the side piazza dark figure
moving slowly down the hillside back of
the house, and across The fields. He watch
ed the movements of this figure, and was
surprised TO see it advancing straight to-
ward his outbuildings. When the man
was hidden from sight behind the barn,
Mr.. Seymour cautiously started out to re-
connoiler. He placed his hand on the
mans arm just as he was entering the barn
door. 1t was the tramp.
What does this mean, sir?" he sternly
demanded.
Don't be alarmed, said the man. I'm
neither house breaker nor barn burner, L
assure you. But-but, many years ago |
used to know this neighbour God, and
haven't seen it for thirty years. / couldn't
sleep wink tonight, and started to rove
round-for that's my disposition. I've
been all over your farm, and fine place it
is. And / see you've cemetery up there
on the hill. It's your first wife, take
il, and your two children that are buried
there?"
yes"
Then you've seen sorrow as we'll as
prosperity"
God knows have" Seymour answered,
Will q
were torn by the loss of the three who fill
those graves.
well, well; life is pretty much the same
sorrow everywhere. Good highland.
for that matter, good-by. L shall be out of
your hay -mow and on the road long before
you are up"
Mr.. Seymour's face showed great sur
prise, and not only surprise, but relief.
He eyed the man sharply for moment,
and then thrust bis hand into his pocket.
Here is five dollars, he said. Take it;
you are welcome TO it."
The tramp took the money. He waited
until the farmer was out of sight, and then
threw il down and stamped on it. while
something like an oath broke from his lips.
Presently he grew calmer picked up The
money, and put it in his pocket, and
clambered up again to his bed in the hay.
Mr.. Seymour was still unable TO sleep.
About daylight he heard the click of the
gate Latch, and, peering through the blinds
of the open window, he saw the tramp
standing outside. He stood there motion
less for at least five minutes, and appeared
to be taking survey of the entire prem
Uses. Then he turned and moved Oft down
the road.
A look of intense relief came to the far
mers tired face.
"Iwas foolish to be so disturbed" he
thought; merely an accidental resem-
blance." Then ne lay down to sleep; and
when the breakfast bell rang, an hour later,
he was in sound slumber.
Wellington Seymour awakened, ate his
meal and went out among the harvesters,
like one who has escaped from a threaten
ing peril, and who can hardly realize the
fact of his escape. All that had happened
TO him since the previous evening seemed
like an unpleasant dream. The men in
the field remarked that he was a whole hour
late something before unheard of-and
that he did not talk as usual. At ten
o'clock DR.. Boards horse and buggy dashed
up the road and halted opposite the field
where they were all at work. Mr.. Sey-
mour went instantly out to the road, with a
premonition that he was urgently wanted.
1t was even so. The messenger told him
that at Oldfeld Crossing, an hour before,
tramp had tried to catch ride
on freight train; that he had fallen under
the wheels, and was now dying, with both
legs crushed and that he had begged the
doctor 10 send at once for Wellington Sey-
mour, for he could not die without seeing
him.
Mr.. Seymour waited not an instant; not
even to put on his coat, which he had left
back in the field. He took his seat in the
buggy, and in thirty minutes the fleet ami
NAL had brought him to the station. An
excited crowd blocked the entrance to the
freight house. Doctor Beard and several
others came forward as Mr.. Seymour
stepped to the ground.
"He can't live half an hour" said the
doctor. Il sent for you, because he calls
for you,all the time-and he seems TO be in
his right mind, too. Who do you think
he is"
"IIe is my brother, said Mr.. Seymour.
"The crowd fell back as he advanced,
and in moment he and the doctor We're
alone with the dying tramp. A sheet had
| been thrown over his mangled limbs. His
fading eyes lighted as he saw Mr.. Seymour
| by his side, and he held out his hand TO
him.
"You didn't know me last night, Yelling
toni" he said.
"No. WInfield-not surely; but / sus-